


just carry me home tonight

by imgoingtocrash



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Battle Couple Dynamics, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence/Blood Mention, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Piggyback Rides, Post-Rogue One, Post-Star Wars: A New Hope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 15:59:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imgoingtocrash/pseuds/imgoingtocrash
Summary: "“Climb on my back,” Cassian says, crouched down at her side with his back to her. His arms are slightly bent away from his torso, one knee is squelched in the damp dirt, and the other leg is bent, his entire posture prepared to support weight.“What,” Jyn replies in disbelief, gripping the bandage wrapped around her shin that’s about to start bleeding through. She knows it’s only going to get worse the longer they sit ducked behind a pair of large durasteel crates for cover. Hence, his current suggestion.”In the heat of battle, Jyn’s injury causes Cassian to make an unusual request.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Every time I think I'm too busy with school work to even think about writing fic, something like this comes to me out of nowhere. Must be from all of the fantastic RebelCaptain Appreciation Week fic reading I've gotten to do in between working. Soooo good.
> 
> Just a quick thing for context, I use the term pick-back ride instead of piggyback. This is due to me initially writing the term we’re all familiar with, going “Are there even pigs in the Star Wars universe?”, and coming to the conclusion that there are pig-like creatures, but no actual pigs for the term “piggyback” to evolve from. So in the Star Wars verse, they just kept using the original term piggyback came from. Language is weird.
> 
> Title is from We Are Young by Fun.

“Climb on my back,” Cassian says, crouched down at her side with his back to her. His arms are slightly bent away from his torso, one knee is squelched in the damp dirt, and the other leg is bent, his entire posture prepared to support weight.

“What,” Jyn replies in disbelief, gripping the bandage wrapped around her shin that’s about to start bleeding through. She knows it’s only going to get worse the longer they sit ducked behind a pair of large durasteel crates for cover. Hence, his current suggestion.

“Climb on my back!” Cassian repeats himself, turning his head to meet her gaze. His brow scrunches up, the lines from his forehead sharpening, leading down to his widened eyes. A drop of sweat slings from his dark hair at the movement, dropping somewhere against her already blood-splattered cargo pants.

“I am _not_ —“ she starts, but Cassian rolls his eyes and interrupts before she can finish.

“Jyn, this really isn’t the time—”

She scoffs. “I completely agree! We’re being shot at by a bunch of kriffing Stormtroopers right now and you want to give me a _pick-back ride_!”

“Bodhi’s got the ship landed about a quarter of a klick from here,” Cassian says, fully turning around to get into her face. As is typical with them, she doesn’t react to his closeness or his harshened tone. She’s used to it. She’s often welcomed it. “With your leg like that, we’re not making it.”

Jyn peeks around the crate supporting her back. Across the Imperial supply camp they’d been sent to attack are Baze and Chirrut, firing at the soldiers and troopers on the other side. Baze locks eyes with her and raises an eyebrow. He wants a plan, instructions, or just to know how the hell she thinks they’re getting out of this in enough pieces to survive. “Baze and Chirrut are midway, they could cover us.“

He shakes his head. “Even if you push yourself into breaking something open more than that wound already is—which I am not letting you do—we can’t limp there. We need to run. I can carry you.” _We both know how capable I am of holding your weight,_ he doesn’t say.

 

(She remembers a night weeks old, how he’d shoved her against the wall of their shared quarters and held her there by the thighs. 

He’d kissed her slowly, precisely, lifting up or peeling off her layers of clothing to get to exposed skin. 

He teased her because they didn’t have time for anything longer, her about to deploy on a mission with the Pathfinders and him just getting back. 

It was for long enough that she found light shades of bruising in the shape of his fingernails on her while changing the next day and had to fight the ridiculous heat rising up her cheeks before she joined her fellow teammates back in the ship’s common area.)

 

An explosion sounds off, breaking their stare as they tangle their arms together. They duck their heads as a spattering of ash and dust puffs into their hair and over their clothes. The Imperial forces are getting closer. They can’t hold this position much longer.

“I’m not leaving you exposed,” she tries, grinding her teeth together against the pain of the way her leg unconsciously jerked at the sound of the explosion. There’s truth in that point. He can’t shoot any unexpected combatants and hold her to him at the same time.

“I won’t be,” he says, snapping open the holster strapped to his thigh. He takes her hand and delicately wraps her fingers around his blaster, a similar model to the one she stole from his bag on that first trip to Jedha. 

He holds her hand in his own, inching closer in their crouched position to bring their foreheads together. It’s a quiet moment in her mind despite the sound of gunfire mere feet away. She feels the wisps of his breath against her face.

“This is ridiculous,” Jyn mumbles, allowing a small smile to creep up her cheek, locking eyes with Cassian from under her loosened bangs. Her hair tie is barely keeping anything together through the mixture of sweat and movement. She takes a moment to close her eyes, to match Cassian’s quick breaths. “I haven’t been given a pick-back ride since I wore my hair in braids.”

She breathes in. She thinks of her father’s soft smile and how her mother would hum as she moved Jyn’s wet hair back and forth. She breathes out the taste of blaster smoke and ash, letting the smell of the sea and feeling of saltwater against her skin fade into the background.

She focuses on Cassian’s hand on her shoulder. “I haven’t had many experiences with pick-back rides at all,” he admits, matching her lost piece of childhood with his own. He doesn’t look sad about it though, just matter-of-fact. “We’ll make it work.”

She scoots back from him, crouching and using his hand for balance to move all of her weight to her better functioning leg. Her muscles are are burning from overuse—too much running and shooting and shock from being shot all in one day. 

She nods, giving Cassian’s now-blaster-free hand a quick squeeze before he turns, returning to his earlier position, his back to her front. 

“I’ve got your legs,” he says, allowing her to quickly drag her lower half closer. He doesn’t grab her yet, just has her situated at his spine in preparation, her legs spread limply on the ground to his sides. “You keep this arm right here, no matter what.” He wraps her right arm across his chest, just above his neck, placing it so that she won’t choke him accidentally. Cassian takes a moment to activate the comm settled against his ear.

“Captain,” Chirrut grunts, his voice echoing through her own comm. “I’ve got a lesson with young Skywalker planned. If we don’t leave soon, I’ll be tardy. You know how impatient he can be.”

“I thought the point of your training was to work that out of him,” Baze muses, letting out a short whoop in what Jyn hopes is their victory at keeping the troopers at bay.

“I’ve got Jyn,” Cassian replies, brushing over the monks’ commentary with just the lift of his lip that she can see while being situated behind his head. “But we’re going to need to cover each other. If we all advance together to the north side of the forest, Bodhi should have the ship ready to depart.”

The two men grunt their assent over the comms. Cassian looks back at Jyn for a moment, questioning. She nods. He pulls her against his back, adjusting her thighs into the hold of his fingers despite the awkward positioning and his unbalance at still being squatted behind cover. He’s supporting all of her now, careful of his hand’s position near her injured leg.

“We’re coming out of cover on my mark.” Cassian pulls her up tighter against his body. She can feel his heartbeat, slow and steady against the flat of her palm. A drop of sweat falls onto her bare arm from his chin. She clenches the fabric of his shirt for a more secure hold, one-handing the blaster with a renewed confidence. 

Cassian carried her weight. 

Jyn would guard his back. 

While the hold felt awkward, their routine was nothing new.

 

xx

 

“You know, I can probably limp to the medbay just fine.” Jyn says, sitting petulantly where Cassian let her down once they got on board the ship. “I’m sure Bodhi would be happy to accompany me in your absence.”

“Uh-huh,” Cassian hums, removing his sweat-soaked brown jacket and tying it around his waist instead.

“You’re supposed to go to the debriefing.”

“I know.”

“There’s no way to talk you out of this, is there?”

“Not really, no,” Cassian smirks as he bends down in front of her for the third time that day.

Jyn rolls her eyes but acquiesces, this time a bit more comfortably without the blaster in one hand. She loops both arms around his neck loosely, lightly resting her head against his shoulder. If he’s going to put her through this, she’s going to operate on the basis that no one can see her if she doesn’t see them.

 

(She can admit that despite seeing the practicality in Cassian’s gesture, she’s a bit embarrassed at being carried around for the entire base to see. She doesn’t care what anyone says, but there’s a small part of her deep down that rages at being cared for by another person. _Heal your wounds in private, child,_ Saw’s voice echoes. _Leaning on another—even in your most dire hour—shows a weakness we cannot afford._

She shoves her mentor back into the still mending part of her heart where he belongs. She’s long stopped convincing herself that the people of the Rebellion will one day up and decide to turn their backs on her. Cassian wouldn’t let them. All of Rogue One would give them a good fight for trying.)

 

Cassian is a little quicker this time at least, adjusting to her weight easily and taking efficient but unhurried steps out of the ship and into the hangar.

“I just want you to know,” she mumbles into his ear. “That if our places are ever reversed, I’m afraid I can’t return the favor.”

“You were close enough to carrying me on Scarif,” Cassian supplies, his tone low but not somber. It’s warm, she decides, maybe a little fond. As if that experience didn’t regularly haunt their nightmares. “If all else fails, I’m sure Kay would gladly do it.”

“I’m sure,” she replies, content to doze with her face buried into the crook of his neck. It’s almost like the comforting lull of a ship going through a long journey in hyperspace: one moment you’re staring at the streaks of starlight and the next you’re drowsing in the passenger seat.

She’s asleep in his arms long before they actually make it to the medbay, and the voice in her mind that sounds too much like Saw stays blissfully silent.

**Author's Note:**

> I loved the idea of Cassian and Jyn doing something so cute, but I also loved it even more as something battle-couple-y, so this fic was the best of both ideas.
> 
> I still have tons of exam work to do, but I'm working on the next part of my series twenty-something and anything else that comes to mind for these two when I can. Hope you enjoyed this, even though it's short! All kudos, comments, etc. are greatly appreciated!


End file.
